Promise
by Bluetiful
Summary: Major AU. Slash. AL, of course Summary: Tale of Legolas's first trip to Lothlorien, first taste of freedom, first tournament and... first love... ? We'll see! I hope, lol THIRD CHAPTER IS FINALLY UP! AHHH.
1. The Carriage Incident

A/N: Okie dokie, I've got a few things to explain beforehand...  
-First of all, Aragorn is once again, not thought of as someone only half-elf; his heritage is pretty much nonexistant and no one really cares about it here.   
-Second, I know all these people are different ages, but for the sake of the plot - the twins, Haldir, Haldir's brothers, Legolas and Aragorn are all around the same age (15, 16 or so, by *our* standards), kay?? Cool. That's all!  
-Third, I don't quite think that Mirkwood's royalty dwelled within a castle, but in this story - they do! Hah!  
-Fourth, I've looked everywhere for the name of Thranduil's wife and/or Legolas's mother but I couldn't find it! So I made one up. ;)  
(ehem, it's Queen Amilasse; I rather like it)  
  
Disclaimer: Tolkein and New Line Cinema own everything. The fantasy, however, is mine to share ;)  
  
Warnings: AU!! Majorly AU. And ah... Slash! Beware of the slash! This whole story has been ripped to shreds by a me, a slasher! You were warned...  
  
  
And now, please, do proceed, madams and sirs...  
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The road to Lorien was bumpy, knotted and downright rough at times and Legolas had to hang on inside his little carriage for dear life. Three times already he'd loosened his grip on the side railings and been swiftly tumbled to the floor of the vehicle.   
  
Of course, under normal circumstances, the young Prince would not have minded rolling around on the floor of his personal caravan - for it was, indeed, rather fun and far more entertaining than sitting around having his head smashed into the ceilings at every rock in the road - but Legolas refrained from doing so for the sole reason that if his father caught him, there would be no end to the inevitable lecture he would receive.   
  
Instead, the Prince sat, straight as a rod, uncomfortably so, and held tight to the railings for hours between rests all the way from Mirkwood to Lothlorien, bored as a rock, with no one to talk to.   
  
Just then, however, a crowned head was suddenly thrust through the window to Legolas's right.   
  
"All right in there, son?", His father asked, leaning in from his seat on his horse outside and taking a glance around the carriage.  
  
"Yes, Father", Legolas answered. This was the third time someone had checked up on him since the last rest stop. But... ever unsatisfied, his father continued to peer around the carriage, inspecting for the thousandth time the walls, seats, ceilings and floor of the vehicle. A little impatiently, Legolas continued."Really! I am perfectly fine, and in no particular danger as I have firmly assessed that there are no orcs lurking about beneath the opposite seat."  
  
The King cocked an eyebrow at him.   
  
But, unable to resist, Legolas added,"Although, there does seem to be a rather suspicious looking ball of lint in that corner, just there. The fact that it hasn't moved at all in the past hour suggests an unnaturality that leads me to assume that it may be of some evil origin, Father. Shall we alert the guards?"  
  
His father grinned, despite himself. "I was only checking... you never know, you know."  
  
"Of course", Legolas couldn't help but smile, too. "How much longer til we're there?"  
  
"Just a little bit. We won't even need to stop for a rest again", his father answered. His eyebrows furrowed a moment, before his head disappeared back out the window and then reappeared a second later,"I'd better get back. Your mother is giving me some fishy looks."  
  
Legolas smiled again and nodded before his father's head, after giving a departing grin, ducked back out of the carriage, leaving only the curtains swinging to and fro from the window.  
  
It seemed that all his life, Legolas had been supremely over-protected. His safety was of prime concern to his parents to the point where it was extremely embarassing. Everywhere he went, guards trailed along behind him and (or) crowded round in front of him. His location, whether it be inside his own home or inside his own kingdom, was always double checked, charted, cleared and guarded before he was permitted to go some place. But there was such a fuss whenever he wanted to leave anywhere, that Legolas had long ago given up traveling outside his home down into the kingdom and now, usually kept himself within the confines of the palace. (Which was pretty hard on the royal interior repair squads - the poor guys were constantly having to fix up the holes in the walls from the Prince's numerous archery practices that took place within the long halls of the castle.)  
  
This trip, in fact, was his first ever trip outside of Mirkwood.   
  
It had come as quite a shock to him when his parents had called him into their private study three weeks earlier and, hands trembling and locked together, told him that he would be attending the Elven Youth Tournament in Lothlorien, as required of all elves of nobility who had not reached their majority yet, in Middle Earth. Of course, he'd had no idea what the Elven Youth Tournament was, but who cared? He would be leaving Mirkwood finally! He would see new sights, explore new things, meet new people.. the tournament itself was barely a whisper of the fun he would finally have.   
  
Prince Legolas was even more surprised to learn later on that not only would he be traveling outside of Mirkwood, but he would be staying in the entirely new place without the supervision and smothering-guardianship of his parents! They would be traveling back to Mirkwood upon dropping him off! It was almost too good to be true...  
  
In the meantime, however, Legolas was even more coddled by his parents than usual.   
  
Not only was it ridiculous for an elf, any elf - young or old - to ride within a carriage instead of on a horse, it was excrutiatingly humiliating. His cheeks had went up in scarlet flames as soon as he saw the bumbling little buggy hauled out behind four horses when he and his parents were about to embark on the journey. Standing there, his parents demanding that he get inside of it, rattling off the all the terrible things that might happen to him if he rode a horse that long way, was horrible what with those guards standing around barely trying and desperately failing to conceal their laughter. Without a word and in a rage, he'd scrambled into the carriage, mostly to get away from the jeering looks that everyone except his parents were giving him.   
  
It wasn't only the fact that he was riding in a carriage that put him off a bit, but also the fact that inside the carriage he didn't get to see the trees, or the new woods and scenery that they were entering. He didn't see the new birds that flitted back and forth above the path, he couldn't feel the sun brush it's yellow warmth against his skin, and he couldn't breathe the air that was so exotic and fresh tasting to his lungs...  
  
And this was because each and every time he'd leaned out one of the windows to get a peek, his father or mother would ride up and shoo him back inside.   
  
"What if you fall out? Lose your balance? Get back in there! Have you lost your mind?!"  
  
"Suppose you peep out just as we're passing a branch, eh? You'll get knocked right out and then where would you be, eh? Get back in there! Have you lost your mind?!"  
  
Actually, his parents had been doing an excellent job of driving Legolas out of his mind since the minute he was born. Of course, he didn't tell them that... it would only do him more worse than good. They might actually take him seriously and have all the Middle-Earth psychiatrists brought in to see him. Nope, it was better not to mention his current mental state at all.   
  
But... such was the burden of an only child.   
  
Sighing and still hanging onto his railings, Legolas just prayed that he would make it to Lorien with most of his wits still intact. Another bump jolted Legolas out of the reverie he sank into, but wasn't enough to keep him from giving into traveling-exhaustion and falling asleep, which he promptly did.   
  
~-------------~-------------~  
In Lothlorien, hours later.  
~-------------~-------------~  
  
"Legolas", an odd, foggy voice called from a distance,"Legolas!", it was a little clearer now,"Legolas, wake up!", it was Thranduil, of course.   
  
Legolas blinked his eyes, and squinted at his father who was leaning in the window again.  
  
"Awake? We've arrived, my son", said the King, smiling broadly."You might want to straighten your clothes a bit. Come on out now."  
  
The King's head slipped out the window again. The Prince balled his fists, rubbed the lingering sleep from his eyes, yawned, stretched and then sat back in the carriage limply.   
  
The carriage had stopped, and so had the rumbeling of the wheels upon the road. Instead, alien voices were floating in from outside. Young voices mingeling with the deeper chords of the old. It seemed there were many attending this Youth Tournament his father had told him about.  
  
*Well, the more the merrier!*, Legolas thought. He smiled, happy at the recent turn of events and at the prospects of the near future. It was a few more moments before Legolas blinked, glanced down, straightened his clothes as his father told him to and then climbed out of the carriage and stepped lightly onto the silvery grass.   
  
They were parked in front of a very large and very tall building with many windows and balconies, there were bunches of elves scattered about, laughing, talking and unloading their parcels. Horses stood around patiently, here and there, waiting for their elves to lead them to the stables for a refresher. It was a pleasantly busy little spectacle amid the glory of this elven realm.   
  
Legolas gazed up and around at his new surroundings.  
  
Lothlorien's dream-like haziness was a far cry from the darker, gloomier atmosphere of Mirkwood. Everything around him seemed to sing softly in peacefulness, and sparkle with a silvery sheen. The new forestry was breath-taking - pale leaves, with intriciate veins in beautiful patterns clouding around the golden star-like shapes and twinkling forms of flowers he'd never seen before.   
  
The very air itself was alive and refreshing. A soft breeze lightly lifted the platinum tendrils around his fair face and felt very comforting as it gently caressed his smooth, pale cheeks.   
  
When his wandering eyes fell back to the elves around him, he was startled to encounter a dozen blunt stares from his fellow elven youths. Some of them, he just now realized, had been standing around, mouths ajar, brazenly gawking at him.   
  
Quite suddenly, Legolas's stomach was filled with the dizzying sensations of nervousness and anxiety.   
  
*The carriage!*, Legolas thought suddenly; and humiliation was added into the already uncomfortable mixture of feelings he harbored. A quick glance around told him that no one else had arrived in a carriage, as he did. *Oh, how embarassing...*  
  
His eyes went south towards the ground, while a heated flush shot up his face. But a savior cloak was suddenly thrown about his shoulders.  
  
"It's rather cold here", his mother said, tying the cloak at his neck."So keep this on as much as you can, all right?"  
  
Legolas nodded mutely while the elves that had been staring quickly returned to their business. The Queen of Mirkwood hadn't seemed to notice the tiny stir in the crowd her son had caused. Instead, she pulled his long blonde hair together, tucked it beneath the fabric of the cloak, and pulled the hood up over his head.   
  
"Your father's just speaking with the Tournament Overseer, there", his mother told him, she pointed to her right."His name is Glorfindel. You've met him before, do you remember?"  
  
Again, Legolas nodded, without a word.   
  
The Queen Amilasse smiled at him. "Nervous, dear?"  
  
Legolas truthfully answered,"Yes."  
  
"Well, so am I. But honestly," his mother said, with a glance towards King Thranduil,"I think your father might be more so than the both of us put together", she laughed, and patted his arm."Come. Let's go join him."  
  
Legolas obeyed and followed along behind his mother, silently, still stinging from his disgraceful arrival.   
  
In his shame, he did not take notice of the fact that many of those eyes that had been widened at his arrival, were still glued to his form, through rather discreetly; nor did he notice the fact that the widened eyes were not filled with shock at his carriage, but instead, filled with shock at the vision of loveliness he was.   
  
One sets of eyes in particular were especially drawn toward the Prince of Mirkwood; and they belonged to an awed and momentarily stunned young noble of a neighboring valley.   
  
The dark-haired youth from Rivendell watched, enamored, as the unwitting blonde floated by, luminous blue eyes and shining golden locks only silghtly visibly beneath his black cloak.  
  
~-----------~----------~  
Later on for Legolas...  
~-----------~----------~  
  
It had been an hour since their arrival.   
  
After meeting and greeting politely the overseer of the tournament, Legolas had stood idly by while his parents shot question after question at poor Glorfindel about any and all the security precautions and safety measures that would be taken to ensure that their only son would not be in any way injured during his stay. Finally, calming their fears enough to slow the pace of the interrogation, Glorfindel had slipped in that they could, at their leisure, see for themselves the room Legolas would be staying in. All too happily, the King and Queen agreed and were hastily shown away to it, Legolas once again, trailing behind.   
  
The rooms, the Mirkwood royal family discovered, were -thankfully - large and airy; with canopied beds, higher and thicker and plainly more comfortable than the ones back at Mirkwood. Plush rugs lay about on the floors, not quite so pleasing to the feet as grass would be, but still quite soft and lovely to the touch. Plants and small trees were placed in every dark, and unfriendly corner to brighten the rooms and make the elves feel closer to the earth. The small comforts worked and Legolas felt right at home.  
  
"Well, it's a nice room", King Thranduil said, throwing open some curtains at the window."You've got a great view of a little courtyard."  
  
Legolas plopped onto his bed, testing it's firmness, as his mother went around scrutinizing the room for the slightest flaw in it's security.   
  
"Is that a crack in the wall?", she asked to no one, hurrying over to a corner.   
  
"That's the last of it, your highness", a servent named Nerfion said upon entering. He set the last of Legolas's luggage down beside a table and a chair situated beside the door.   
  
"Oh, good, good!", the King said, turning to nod at him,"Ah.. Please, do tend to the horses now. Water and feed them, if you may, for we shall be leaving home quite soon."  
  
"Of course, your majesty." The servent bowed and was turning to leave when the King's voice stopped him.  
  
"And Nerfion?", Thranduil smiled.   
  
"Yes, my king?"  
  
"See that you and all of my other hard workers are watered and fed, as well."  
  
Nerfion smiled and bowed again."As you wish, your majesty." The smile widened as the servent departed.  
  
The Queen stood, pausing in her inspection, and smiled sweetly at her husband. "I want to give them a feast upon our return."  
  
"We will, my love. And it will be the biggest one yet!", was the enthusiastic reply.   
  
Mirkwood's royal family was known for their almost over-the-top treatment of their servents... not at all a bad thing, in actuality. The King's heart was a soft one, it seemed, and of that, Legolas was very proud. He gazed at them, suddenly realizing that despite his desire to be free and on his own for a while, he would, indeed, miss his parents terribly.   
  
The little family inhabited the room for quite a while, conversing idly, before a knock echoed across the room and everyone's faces turned towards the door. Glorfindel stepped in, smiling.  
  
"I see you've found the room", Glorfindel nodded to the King and Queen,"I hope it's satisfactory..."  
  
"Oh, yes", Legolas's mother answered, as she crossed the room to stand at her husbands side."It's quite charming. I'm almost envious of my son", she laughed again, as did the King.   
  
Glorfindel chuckled lightly, before looking towards the youth sitting silently upon the bed,"And the Prince? What does he think?"  
  
Legolas looked towards the old elf at his doorway and gave him a winning grin,"The Prince believes the Queen to be rightly envious, for the room *is* rather nice and seems very comfortable."  
  
The overseer smiled broadly at the youth."Well! That's certainly reassuring. Thank you for your praise, little prince."  
  
*Little prince!*, Legolas thought wrathfully, behind the sweet expression on his face. *Elbereth, don't tell me I'm going to be babied here, as well! Ugh!*  
  
The Queen was speaking now,"Legolas, of course, will only be entering the archery end of the tournament."  
  
"Oh?", Glorfindel said, eyebrows lifting. He was aware of Legolas's skill as an archer, but had expected the youth to be entering more than just one segment of the tournament, as all other participants were going to do.  
  
"Ah, yes", King Thranduil said,"We'd prefer this, actually. For his own safety, you see. Our only son... why, we couldn't bare it if he were hurt in any way."  
  
"I understand." Glorfindel nodded. Legolas rolled his eyes, a small gesture of annoyance that only Glorfindel didn't fail to notice.   
  
*But maybe the Prince would have it otherwise*, Glorfindel noted privately as continued conversing with the King and Queen of Mirkwood.   
  
Forgotten for the moment, Legolas leaned back on the bed thinking about all the elves that had been staring at him earlier. He wondered how he would ever fit in with any of them when and if they all began to make fun of him for the whole carriage incident. He hoped that no one would remember him as the elf that had to be carried like baby to his first tournament.   
  
~---------------~------------------~---------------~  
A little earlier, back down in the welcoming yard:  
~---------------~------------------~---------------~  
  
Aragorn, having been already set up in a room with his twin brothers the day before, had been helping to unload luggage from various other elves' horses when the little carriage had driven up.  
  
He gave the thing a strange look as it came lumbering up the road, slightly amused that someone attending the tournament would be so ... *delicate* as to need one. Shrugging and setting down the box he'd just unstrapped from a horse, Aragorn decided that the carriage was probably carrying someone's pregnant mother.   
  
So you can imagine his surprise when, instead of a small elf woman with a great big belly being helped out of the buggy, a slender elf, with long shining locks of blonde hair, leaped lightly out without any sort of assistance.   
  
Surprise, however, was quickly replaced with wonder as he gazed at the carriage-riding elf a little closer. Crimson lips, a perfect pout, glowing and flawless skin, with the most innocently teasing cerulean-blue eyes...   
  
*......*, Aragorn's mind went blank. He could only gawk, speechless, as some of the others were, at the figure that stood gazing around almost indifferently, the pale cheeks of the elf coloring up in a pretty flush, probably because of the cool breeze.  
  
Feeling himself drift lazily into a reverie, Aragorn shook his head and blinked his eyes. The elf from the carriage was being draped in a large, thick shapeless cloak by a woman wearing a crown.   
  
A crown.   
  
Not just nobility, then... the elf was royalty. Having no choice in the matter, for Aragorn's heart had just won control over his bodily movements, the dark haired Rivendell boy was forced to stare at the elf, completely enraptured, as he was lead away by the crowned woman around a corner and out of his sight.  
  
*What an interesting tournament this will be*, Aragorn thought.  
  
~-----------------~----------------~  
Back to Legolas's turmoil...  
~-----------------~----------------~  
  
"... And make sure you draw the drapes in the evenings", The King of Mirkwood was saying,"You don't want it to become too cold in here, you may get sick."  
  
"Elves don't *get* sick, Father, you know that."  
  
The King paused,"Er... Right. Anyway - If you have any questions go directly to Glorfindel. He will be happy to assist you."  
  
Glorfindel had respectfully left the room a little while ago, leaving the royal family to say their Goodbye's.   
  
"And there are messages that can come quickly to us, if it is your parents that you need", the Queen added lovingly, cupping Legolas's face in her hands and rubbing her nose to his. "My baby!"   
  
The Prince silently thanked Elbereth that they were still within the privacy his room and that no one else was present. As soon as the Queen released him, King Thranduil swooped in to embrace his son, lightly crushing the slight boy in his fatherly affection.   
  
"Well... We'll see you at the end of the tournament, then, son", the King said gravely, letting Legolas loose. Thranduil's great, old eyes teared up and his bottom lip trembled before it disappeared beneath the upper one; his wife was in a similar condition, her sniffeling barely audible.   
  
Legolas smiled reassuringly,"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry."  
  
His parents nodded, straightening up.   
  
"Of course," Thranduil said gruffly, and gently taking his wife's hand."I know you'll behave yourself. Goodbye, son."  
  
"Farewell, father, mother...", Legolas said, ushering his parents out the door. They moved robotically outside and stood to face him,"Have a good trip!"   
  
They nodded, wordlessly, and began walking slowly away. Legolas shook his head and shut the door.   
  
*At last*, he thought.*Alone! At last!!*  
  
Grinning from pointed-ear to pointed-ear, Legolas leaped onto his bed and bounced up and down happily before settling back against his pillows. Despite his worrying about what the other elves would think of him being babied in a carriage all the way to a battle-skill tournament, he couldn't help but feel a little better because of his new-found freedom.   
  
There were still a few hours before having to go down and join the welcoming feast, so Legolas decided to catch up on the snoozing he had been cashing in on before being so rudely interrupted. So - sighing and burying his head within the feathery comforts of the bed, the Prince of Mirkwood fell peacefully under the foggy spell of sleep...  
  
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To be continued... BUT - *only* if I know people are actually going to read this thing...  
  
So, shall I keep going? Is this drivel? Should I just delete it and forget about it?   
Blah... =T Review and lemme know, kay?  
  
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	2. The Fortunate Accident

A/N: Sorry it took so long and sorry it IS so long! lol ;) A/L Meeting in this chapter! (My peace offering)  
  
-Note to Amia (...who said that she thought Lorien elves lived in the trees): Yup, I thought about that, wasn't quite sure myself so I went and looked it all up at the Encyclopedia of Arda (a Tolkein encylopedia). Turns out the tree-house things are called Talans (I totally forgot hah!) and that yeah, Lorien elves do use them, but mostly just as guard posts and for ceremonial purposes. So, after turning it over in my mind for a while, I decided that it would be better to use a Rivendell-Style-Building-Structure as the youth bunk. It would definitely be easier on Glorfindel, anyway, lol...  
I hope you don't mind... =T  
  
-Note to Those Who Wanted To Know: *Taraelen* (my other story) is on the back-burner right now, while I re-evaluate it's plot. The 6th chapter will come soon, though, I think... (I hope)  
  
-Note To Everyone: I realize in the first chapter I referred to Aragorn as 'Estel', one of his many, many names... but after writing this chapter and looking over the other one... I've come to the decision that I am really sick and tired of typing that name after having to do so in Taraelen over and over. So, from now on... Aragorn will be 'Aragorn'. Please disregard any timeline/background incongruencies... thank you! (I'll also be changing the Aragorn's in the first chapter to Aragorn's later on when I've got time)  
  
Disclaimer: Ehh..yeah. See chapter one, thanks.  
  
Warnings: Ah... slash, major AU, maybe a few sentences where sexual innuendo lurks (Free Aragolas flag and mug to the first one to find them), with one scene of implied evilness! I'm so bad.  
  
But now on with the story...  
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Azure orbs disappeared and reappeared beneath long, sweeping lashes as Legolas slowly awakened from his nap. His eyes scrunched, blinked and then narrowed as he opened his mouth for a yawn and released the breath of sleep from his body.   
  
He'd been dreaming of something... something shining, and glittering... green? But the memory of the dream was fleeting and Legolas suddenly forgot what it was he was thinking of...  
  
Instead, he became aware of the sound of very loud footsteps passing just outside his door... *Door?* Now unsure of where he was, Legolas sat up in bed and gazed around.  
  
A room. Pale oak walls. A window. Silver trees.  
  
*Lothlorien*, Legolas thought, as he suddenly remembered,*The feast!*  
  
Overcome with a sudden rush of eagerness to be in the company of elves who most likely wouldn't be prone to entombing him within three thick capes for the summer weather ("Oh, just in case, dear") or having snipers present during the evening meal ("Can't be too careful, son"), Legolas flew without sense straight to his bedroom door, threw it open and barreled into the hall...  
  
...Just as another elf was passing by his doorway...  
  
Before he could pull the breaks on his flight, Legolas went crashing into the poor, unsuspecting elf; his momentum bowling them both over.  
  
The two youths went tumbling across the floor and stopped only when, one piled atop the other, they careened into a hard and unyielding wall with a great big THUMP.  
  
"Ow..", Legolas moaned, as he lie on his back beneath the elf he'd smashed into in his flight. His eyes had shut on impact, but now they had began blinking and trying to focus in on the looming face above him.   
  
Dark, unruly hair and stormy grey eyes came slowly into view...  
  
~-------~----------~-----------~  
Rewind about 10 minutes or so...  
~-------~----------~-----------~  
  
The cracks in the ceiling zig-zagged like tiny branches of lightning across the dark, hard surface above Aragorn. He'd been lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling ever since he'd come in from helping out in the stables earlier, thankful for the time to himself.   
  
It seemed he'd been working ever since he'd awoken this morning:   
~  
Before he had even gone to breakfast, he was intercepted in the halls by his twin brothers who told him that Glorfindel would be needing help setting up for the feast later on in the evening because none of the other elves who were supposed to help had arrived yet. Being Lord Elrond's sons and Glorfindel being Lord Elrond's best friend... well it was only natural that the three boys volunteer for whatever duties needed tending. Aragorn had nodded obligingly, and trailed along after his brothers to find the old overseer and inquire about what needed to be done.  
  
When they'd found Glorfindel, the ancient one had been arguing with a very disgruntled looking cook. The two stood three feet from each other, hair wild and arms waving.   
  
Glorfindel was in the middle of shouting: "..two chickens! You're mad! I would never steal - "  
  
The cook, too, was obviously quite fettered,"Are you calling me a liar? I will send you back to the Halls of Mandos for a second time -"  
  
"Don't you dare ever bring that -"  
  
"You stole my chickens! I'll say whatever I want to you! You chicken stealer!"  
  
"There's no need to shout!"  
  
"CHICKEN STEALER! THIEF! YOU MANIPULATE MY CHICKEN!"  
  
"Calm yourself, sir! Please! I will replace your chickens, just do refrain from yelling. I've got this splittng headache that's -"  
  
"I'll give you a headache", the cook waved his cleaver threateningly,"With this! Where's my chickens?"  
  
The sons of Elrond stood around, patiently waiting for Glorfindel to finish up, and trying desperately not to smile. Elladan was having the most trouble, keeping not just himself from cracking a grin, but his twin brother, Elrohir, as well. The two struggled silently together while Aragorn easily kept himself in check with more will power than the twins could muster as a team.   
  
When Glorfindel had finally settled the dispute and the cook had stalked off (still muttering darkly, of course - though, quietly so), the boys met him with the most innocent of expressions on their faces.   
  
"Not. One. Word.", Glorfindel warned, seeing Elrohir was about to speak - an altogether dangerous thing.  
  
"Of course not," Elladan said seriously, nodding quickly."Not a single word."  
  
"Good," Glorfindel straightened up and smiled brightly,"Now, what may I help you with, young sirs?"  
  
"Ah, but it's the other way around, *old* sir", the grinning Elrohir corrected,"We have heard that your helper-elves haven't arrived yet, and there is much still to be done. So, the question is.. what may *we* help *you* with?"  
  
Glorfindel looked skywards, his expression gracious, before beaming down at the young ones,"Deliverance! And in the form of three rogues. My morning is off to a strange start indeed. All right", he said, turning quickly to business,"You two - who look more alike than should be genetically allowed - if you may, please go and see to setting out the tables and decorations and all that sort in the dining hall - the decorators are in desperate need of extra hands."  
  
"Sure. Ah, but wait... In the dining hall though?," Elladan asked, slightly confused,"I thought we would be having the feast in the courtyard?"   
  
"Well, that was the original plan ... - two weeks ago", Glorfindel explained,"But then, we realized that there would be rain tonight -"  
  
"And sucking on soggy biscuits at the welcoming feast might put a damper on the occasion," Elrohir interjected,"No pun intended, by the way."  
  
Elladan nodded."Oh. Right."  
  
Glorfindel smiled and continued,"And Aragorn? The job I have for you is far beneath your station, I realize, but we're very short on hands so..."  
  
"I don't mind, whatever it is", Aragorn said, because he really didn't mind: Aragorn was a very good boy. Elf. (Blah.)  
  
"Well, if you insist, then... the stables?", Glorfindel said hopefully, looking a little defeated in his weariness, though it was still early in the morning,"There will be many arriving today, and horses will need to be tended to quickly so that everyone will be on their way..."  
  
"No problem", Aragorn said, smiling. Glorfindel appeared relieved.  
  
"Well!", said Elladan,"We'll be off then. We've many decorations to set up - "  
  
"And many decorators to UPset! See you later, brother," Elrohir cut-in, grinning as always,"And you too, chicken stealer."  
  
Glorfindel shot the twin a deathly look. Elrohir only widened his eyes innocently and explained,"What? It was TWO words!"  
  
Elladan noted Glorfindel's threatening expression and firmly lead his twin brother away by the arm,"Come along, you."  
  
Aragorn could still hear Elrohir's flimsy excuses as he was dragged around a corner by his brother, "He said 'Not One Word', but see, 'chicken stealer' is TWO words..."  
  
Glorfindel and Aragorn just smiled and shook their heads at the dark haired twin before biding each other farewell and separating to go about their duties.  
~  
So, since early this morning Aragorn had been working at the stables, stopping a grand total of only three times - to eat, return nature's call, and then help unload baggages when one of the others who'd been helping was summoned away by Glorfindel.  
  
Now, he simply lay awake on his canopied fortress of a bed, his dark head resting against his palms, so many thoughts dancing across his mind. He began imagining he could see shapes in those lines up on the ceiling...   
  
I say shapes as in plural, but in all honesty there was only one shape that Aragorn imagined he saw... - it was the slender figure of an elf, one with the longest most glorious blonde hair; smaller lines formed the eyes, bluer than the sea, and a mouth so pretty...  
  
"Aragorn?", called a voice from outside his door, brutally interrupting his reverie.  
  
"Yes?", he answered, slightly annoyed. He rose to a sitting position atop his quilts,"Come in."  
  
There was a slight squeak from the creaking hinges and then a familiar face peeked out from just above the door knob.  
  
"Hey", Elladan said, moving up to his full height from the slightly stooped position he'd been holding,"I didn't know if you were back from the stables, yet."  
  
"Yeah, I only got back a little while ago, actually", Aragorn replied, half-smiling,"Just resting here a bit. I was out there all day."  
  
"I heard", Elladan grinned and leaned back against the wall beside the door,"And I see. Your clothes look unsalvagable, by the way."  
  
Aragorn peered down at himself, noting the mud-stained tunic and the newly acquired holes of his leggings. He looked up at his brother and shrugged."Camoflauge and ventilation. What can I say? Great warriors are prepared at all times."  
  
"Uh huh. Right", Elladan grinned, moving back towards the door again,"The feast is starting now and I'm ravenous. So change your clothes and hurry up, will you?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Hey", Aragorn said suddenly, stopping Elladan from leaving the room. He gave his brother a questioning look,"Where's Elrohir, by the way?"  
  
"Oh. Ah, well", Elladan grinned and shook his head,"You see, we were both coming to get you a few minutes ago... but um, just as we arrived at the entrance out front, three Lorien elves rode through the gates delaying my lesser half", Elladan smirked,"I could give you any number of guesses as to who those riders were, but you'll only need one..."  
  
"Haldir, Orophin and of course Rumil.", Aragorn guessed correctly. He smiled in understanding ,"I see. All right, I'll be down in a minute. And make sure Elrohir doesn't go *anywhere* until I see him first."  
  
Elladan nodded, gave his brother a small salute and then left the room, closing the door behind him. Sighing lazily, Aragorn rose to his feet and began picking through his clothes, all of which were neatly packed away within a fat oak dresser.   
  
It was while Aragorn was plucking out his tunic that a small package - barely the size of the palm of his hand - tumbled out of his clothes and onto the floor.   
  
He knew what it was, of course - what it was that glittered inside of the little package. It was a necklace. One with the an extremely small, yet most mesmerizing emerald-colored stone set within silver dangling from it's chain. The jewel had been given to him by Galadriel years ago when he hadn't even come of age yet. He remembered it perfectly: The ancient Lady had whispered to him cryptically in the most prophetic voice that the necklace would one day hold the 'flower' of his 'existence', before she ceremoniously placed the chain around his neck and bid a moment of silence.   
  
She was always *so* dramatic.  
  
But it was only that one day that Aragorn ever wore it, though. Forever afterwards, he'd had the emerald stone necklace packed into the small peice of fabric and stored away safely somewhere close by.   
  
The stone was beautiful, he knew and he would have gladly worn it but.... somehow, he never felt *right* wearing it - instead, he'd always felt that the stone belonged to someone else... that someone else should have been wearing it.  
  
Now, Aragorn only eyed the package doubtfully as he swiftly donned his clothing. And then hastily, he snatched the package up off the floor, tossed it onto his dresser and strode briskly out into the hallway to join his brothers and their friends.   
  
So lost within his thoughts - which had suddenly become clouded with recent memories of a fair elven face belonging to a certain Mirkwood resident - the usually astutely aware Aragorn moved inattentive down the hall towards the northern staircase that would take him down to the first floor.  
  
Had the youth been paying more attention to his surroundings as he walked, Aragorn probably would have heard the pitter-patter of rapid footsteps upon the oak floors of the building - the footsteps that were fast approaching his location. He might have been able to pause, stop or get out of the way but...  
  
...As it were, Aragorn did not hear the footsteps in time to avoid the little accident that was to occur. Instead, he was directly in the path of the blonde flash of an elf who came speeding out of a door on the left side of the hall and was just in time - in just exactly the right place to be knocked down and thrown to the floor by the golden blur.  
  
The entire thing was so unexpected and happened so fast:   
  
One minute Aragorn was simply walking alone down the empty hallway, the next minute he was rolling across the hard oak boards with another elf entangled within his limbs.  
  
*What in Arda...?*  
  
When they'd finally rolled to stop beside a wall, Aragorn was staring down into the most beautiful face he'd ever seen.   
  
Of course, he immedietly recognized it as belonging to the elf he'd seen earlier that afternoon - the one getting out of the carriage... the one who's image had been periodically resurfacing in his mind every minute since.   
  
As he gazed down at the elf lying beneath him, Aragorn couldn't help but give into the slow smile that spread across his face at the sight of those elusive blue eyes gradually appearing under unbelievably long, dark lashes. Up close, the sight was so breath-taking it rivaled the sunrise.  
  
"Good evening," Aragorn said politely. The elf beneath him groaned a little in response and his eyes scrunched. Aragorn peered down at the one beneath him, "Are you all right?"  
  
"Fine... a bit of trouble with the breathing, though", the blonde one replied softly, in a voice so crystal clear it would have been music to Aragorn's ears - However, those pink lips suddenly moving so completely enslaved Aragorn's mind that the sound of the melodic chords did not even register within his brain. He fell entranced; under the spell of those magical lines running amuck upon the petal-like surface of the Prince's lips. Luckily, though, just before he leaned down and gave into the powerful urge to kiss the little elf, Aragorn caught himself, blinked and realized the other elf was speaking again -  
  
".. -Can you please get off?", the elf was saying, almost a little timidly.  
  
*Absolutely!*, thought Aragorn, but then he realized Legolas meant something else. "Oh", he said as he climbed hastily off the little blonde. "Sorry"  
  
"No", the other elf said, as he rose to his feet beside Aragorn,"*I'm* sorry - for barreling into you -"  
  
"Oh, no, that was my fault," Aragorn said, shaking his head and trying to regroup,"I should have been looking where I was going."  
  
"Still...," the smaller one said, appearing thoroughly sorrowful,"I shouldn't have come just shooting out of the door like that, without even considering someone else might be walking here or something. I'm really not so clumsy usually..."  
  
Aragorn smiled,"Neither am I. Are you all right, though? Now, I mean?"  
  
"Perfect. You?"  
  
"Same...", there was a single second of awkward silence as the pair stood around fidgeting, before Aragorn asked,"So, who are you?"  
  
"Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood", was the prompt answer. Legolas nervously tucked a bit of his hair behind an ear and smiled. The simple act nearly caused Aragorn's knees to give way, but it didn't show.   
  
Instead, Aragorn quickly volunteered his own information,"I'm called Aragorn, among a few other things. Son of Rivendell's Lord."  
  
Legolas nodded. Aragorn was about to speak again, but stopped when he suddenly began hearing bits of sentences from below as familiar voices cut up the stairs:  
  
"...mummble know where he is mummble mummble him to come down YEARS ago-"  
  
"mummblemummblemummble always late, but that's Aragorn for you mummblemummble..."  
  
Aragorn grinned and Legolas smiled (he'd heard the bit of conversation, too).   
  
"I'd better go", Aragorn said, the grin fading. He'd only just realized that he sorely didn't want to leave the Prince."You'll be at the feast tonight?"  
  
"I was just heading there now, actually..."  
  
Aragorn brightened,"Then I'll see you there - I have to meet with my brothers first."  
  
"Oh. Right. See you there, then..." Legolas said, smiling again. Aragorn returned the expression as he backed up, turned and floated down the stairs. He looked back over his shoulder again to see Legolas heading toward the southern staircase and swooned internally.  
  
*Elbereth*, Aragorn thought, his mind flitting over the images of blue and gold that made up the Prince,*That one is so beautiful it's almost dangerous*  
  
But the dark-haired youth had no idea how prophetic his words would prove to be, as he met with his brothers and the three Lorien elves at the foot of the staircase...  
  
~--------------~-------------~--------------~  
Up the stairs and into the Prince's mind...  
~--------------~-------------~--------------~  
  
Legolas stepped lightly down the southern stairs, trying desperately to calm his addled nerves.   
  
The fall was over with, and he was on his feet again... so why did he still feel dizzy? Legolas thought about this as he made his way through a corrider out to the feast. *Storm-grey*, he then began thinking as he walked, *Storm-grey, that's what color they were*, referring to Aragorn's eyes. For some strange reason, he could not get that phrase or the image of that elf's peircing gaze out of his mind.  
  
This was why upon reaching the dining hall, Legolas once again almost bowled into another elf - a female one this time, but one who's reflexes prevented the sort of accident that had occured upstairs.   
  
"Excuse me", the female elf muttered, brushing past him in a hurry. Legolas turned to apologize, as manners had taught him, but found that the girl was already a few yards away, her dark hair tumbling behind her as she swiftly rounded a corner.  
  
Legolas just exhaled and nodded to himself before turning to enter the room of the feast.  
  
When he crossed the threshold of the dining hall, Legolas was forced to stop and stare wide-eyed around...  
  
Blazing torches hanging upon the rich, mahogony colored walls illuminated every corner of the room in a sunset-orange warmth. Sturdy tables - one medium sized rectangle shaped table at each side of the room, with about a dozen small, round tables scattered between them - covered the floor of the cavenerous hall; while the musical roar of elvish voices and the sweet aromas of elvish food filled the air.   
  
The dining hall was an impressive and very grand room, he noted.  
  
Only after taking in the splendor of the dining hall did Legolas take note of the fact that many of the elven youths in the room kept glancing, a couple of them conspicuously pointing even, in his direction. He figured it was time to move away from the doorway and take cover somewhere.   
  
Just then, calls from the table a few feet to his right - one of the rectangle ones - caught his attention.  
  
"You there!," inquired they to the Prince,"By the door... Yes, you. Come closer, will you?"  
  
Legolas went towards their table a little timidly, finding just then that his nature was a little shy. The elves of the rectangle table immediately saw this:  
  
"Oh, don't be shy, come on. We won't bite", they said gently, not wanting to scare him off. Legolas came up on their table and stood a little nervously off to their side - nervously because their intense and obvious appraisal of him was a little disarming.   
  
"Hello, then... ", an elf seated nearest Legolas said, smiling,"What's your name?"  
  
"Legolas Thranduilion," was the unconsciously proud reply. Shy or not, Legolas still carried the backbone of Kings in his body.   
  
"The Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood!", an elf towards the rear of the table said as he shot up from his seat to bow,"My father is a Lord in your eastern-most kingdom. I am a noble of your court, my Prince"  
  
"A pleasure to meet you", Legolas answered, bowing slightly in return,"But who are you?"  
  
"We, little beauty", said that elf nearest Legolas with a playful grin,"are the very elves your parents have been warning you about", he said while standing and bowing grandly to the Prince.   
  
And before the Prince could object, the elf boldly captured Legolas's hand within his and planted a kiss squarely on the princely palm. Beside the two, the elves of the table erupted in amused laughter (the good kind; not mocking).  
  
"Come," said the tall elf to Legolas, while leaning close to the Prince. He bid slyly,"Join us, fair one, and we swear to you that pleasure the sight of your lovely face brings us, we will ten-fold return to you this night", he added suggestively,"One way or another..."  
  
Legolas's eyebrows rose in surprise.   
  
Having never before dealt with admirers during his entire over-protected existence, the inexperienced little Prince had no idea how to respond to this sudden on-slaught of praises and innuendos. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, not knowing how to proceed and completely aware of the fact that the tall elf who'd spoken still held his hand within a clamp of strong, yet gentle fingers that moved to caress his skin softly.  
  
"My name is Melran," the tall elf whispered to Legolas, as the others continued eating and carrying on,"And you'll sit beside me tonight, where I may help you to keep these others at bay."  
  
Seeing no better option and rather curious of the elves about him, Legolas held no objection to their invite and allowed himself to be lead around the table to a wooden chair, the seat of which was hastily covered with a velvet cushion a second before he was helped onto it.  
  
As he joined them, Legolas quickly found that although he was in some rather strange company, he was also in good hands and that despite their extremely forward countenance, the elves gathered around Legolas were not at all bad. They, as all other elf-minors, were only a very spirited bunch who simply enjoyed a bit of mischief and fun especially when it involved someone so sweet and innocent as the Prince seemed to them - of course, Legolas's fair face and tantalizing physiqe played a rather large role in their eagerness to befriend him, as well.   
  
But the little gang did take quite good care of him that evening (especially the smitten Melran) - being polite, generous, curious about his background - though, without prying and, of course, voraciously flirtacious - which, you understand, could not be helped.   
  
And best of all - not a single one of them mentioned, or even hinted at the spectacle of, what came to be known in Legolas's mind as... the Carriage Incident. Some had admitted to having spotted his beautiful face earlier, but beyond that... nothing.  
  
So... Overall, the feast a very enjoyable event for Legoals except...  
  
Except for the one disappointment that lingered hazily around the edges of the Prince's mind, even as he was escorted to and dropped off at his room that night by the coyly considerate Melran.  
  
This disappointment he felt was that of never seeing again throughout the feast the elf from the hallway... the one with the dizzying storm-grey eyes... Legolas wondered almost forlornly why 'Aragorn' never appeared at the feast, though he said he would...   
  
But more than that, as he snuffed out his bedside candle and slipped off to sleep around midnight, Legolas wondered why he even cared so much in the first place.   
  
~------------~-----------~------------~--------------~  
Earlier during the feast, unbeknownst to Legolas...  
~------------~-----------~------------~--------------~  
  
... A scruffy, grubby and barbarian-like group of elves from the South - the very deep South - were seated around a table across the room from the entrance of the dining hall, their filthy conversation and extremely un-gentle-elfly talk interrupted as they all stared bug-eyed at the Prince of Mirkwood when he first appeared at the doorway.  
  
Food sat half-chewed within their mouths, and silverware was held still in mid-air by their thick, man-like hands as they gawked at Legolas. None of them even moved for a few moments, as none of them had ever seen one so gorgeous in all their miserably greedy lives.   
  
Their leader, a sharp-eyed elf with a well-deserved bad reputation and a renowned tendency for violent outbursts, stared, too, but was *not* particular struck by the arrow of love, as some say, but rather... by the shining lumination of wealth exuding from Legolas.   
  
*Whoever this new elf is*, thought the slimey leader, *he certainly is a charming wrapping to what will prove to be a bundle of gems for ... close friends...*  
  
Within moments, the smirking leader called Cudagor began forking at his food again, throwing a glance at his gaping friends.  
  
"Close your mouths", he ordered, shoveling a chunk of meat between his teeth,"That one is mine..."  
  
"Who says?", a fair-haired and pointy nosed elf asked his superior sardonically. His arms were crossed and eyes were narrowed a bit challengingly; Legolas's beauty gave the cowardly elf courage for at least that much.  
  
"I says!," answered Cudagor, easily. He gave the elf a threatening glare filled with fire and ice,"I saw him first. I spoke first. What have you got?"  
  
"What I *haven't* got is the patience to argue with you", the elf replied quickly, quite obviously intimidated and frightened out of his mind but rolling his eyes dismissively in a pitiful attempt to save face."He's yours then."  
  
- And that would have been the end of that conversation, except... -  
  
"I'm not so sure", murmured a youth sitting alone at the next table. The elf's voice, distinct and direct, carried into their dirty ears and made them pause again. Every elf at Cudagor's table turned wide-eyed to look at him whom they knew to be called Tirinien.  
  
Tirinien was an elf who was usually so very quiet that it never failed to take everyone by surprise whenever he spoke, half because they'd had no idea he was present at all. But when he did speak, his words were gold because Tirinen was known to usually give forth observations and bits of advice that were always correct and helpful when heeded.   
  
Cudagor, knowing this, swallowed his mouthful and gave Tirinien a wary once-over,"And? Why not?"  
  
"Do you not see how he carries himself?", Tirinien inquired simply, his eyes flashing lightly at Cudagor, who gave no answer,"Among nobles, his chin is still held high - And consciously so. Yet, what is unconscious to him is his tred, which is very majestic"  
  
"And?", Cudagor shrugged.  
  
"He is obviously royalty, Cudagor," Tirinien clarified,"Rich beyond your Father's wildest dreams. He is beautiful, of course. And, most likely, he is aware of this. You, however, are the grandson of a country elf who has barely the wealth to feed his neglected and abused peasants... or shall I say slaves? And who harbors only the most minimal amounts of noble blood. You would mean nothing to him - him, that Prince, that Golden Prince who will have and, probably, has already had the most well-reputed, most well-endowed of elves offered at his feet and has apparently turned them all down. Were there no competition at all, Cudagor, you would still stand no chance of gaining that elf", Tirinien paused and drew his gaze lazily over Cudogar, who, by now, was red and shaking with rage; rage for the insult and, what only Cudagor saw as, the challenge.   
  
Tirinien, however, wasn't phased by Cudagor's fury at all,"Calm yourself", he said boredly,"I do not cause the insult, I merely speak the truth."  
  
And Cudogar knew this.   
  
He knew also that he could not touch Tirinien - not to beat him for the scathing 'truth' of the elf's tongue nor to quell the admiration he saw in Tirinien's pale blue eyes as they gazed at *his* Prince. Cudogar boiled in frustration because he knew Tirinien was an elf whose appearance was extremely deceptive - the slight frame of the elf looked easily defeatable, but held a strength which Cudagor had found early on that he could not defeat.   
  
But the damage was done: Cudagor had just been lowered, challenged, enraged and easily dismissed by a lone elf who looked, for all it's deception, frail! Cudagor's very leadership was threatened; his cowardly cronies now casting him second glances, surprised that Tirinien remained seated and unbruised after the verbal assault.  
  
With barely contained malice, Cudagor could only grunted,"Be silent, Tirinien. You know nothing! You'll see I'll make that royal elf mine in spite of your doubt. One such as I cannot be floored by a few words from a tongue-less clod like you."   
  
"And as for the rest of you", he turned and rumbled lowly to the elves at his table, "Pay that mongrel no heed and don't make no mistake", he said, turning away from them to watch the already infamous blonde from across the room,"That ... Golden Prince will be mine." The other elves glanced uneasily at each other, and tried to go back to eating their meals."I always get what I want and *he* is what I want."  
  
Anger was already pulsing violently through Cudagor's veins as he watched Legolas smiling and chattering with the elves of a table by the entryway,"He *will* be mine..."  
  
*******************************************************************  
  
Good grief that took forever... Anyone up for another chapter??   
  
*******************************************************************  
p.s. questions and comments directed to the authoress, the characters and the furniture are welcomed and encouraged!  
also note that everything that happened in this chapter actually *is* important to the plot: i'm not just rambling ;) 


	3. The Sweetest Penance

A/N: I hereby officially apologize for taking so long in writing this... for taking YEARS to write this. I'm not really sure who I'm apologizing too because I bet the many wonderful reviewers who read this fic years ago when I first posted it are probably long since mortally departed or just plain sick of me. :( But there it is.

My apology.

A few notes I'd initially written when I planned on posting the third chapter 2 weeks after the second chapter-

-Note to Koala: Ah. Okay. for your first question about 'Southern Elves'... I was looking at a map of Middle Earth and I began wondering about a little section of land below Mordor in the very south-eastern most corner of the map. 'Who lives there?', thought I. My imagination answered with 'Elves too ungainly, ugly and greedy for mention in Tolkien's log!'. And so... the concept of the more evil-prone Southern Elves was born. And as for your other two questions about Legolas's ability to keep up with the other elves, and whether or not he'll enter more tournaments... well, you'll find out in the story! D

-Note to Serena Lim: Hey, thanks so much for the e-mail... You know I read it right when I was on the verge of tucking Promise away again and putting off writing it for another few weeks? When I read your message, I immediately pulled out all my fanfic-files and got down to business again, lol. You saved Promise! Hooray! (Updated Note: Much of the contents of this third chapter were written during that period, Serena. Basically, all I recently did was weave together my already written random scenes.)

Disclaimer: Some characters are mine, but everything's pretty much based on Tolkien's masterpiece. (See Ch.1)

Warnings : Slashy implications and heavy innuendo. Nothing graphic. (Yet.) ... (Maybe.) Um... I hope no one minds that this fic is becoming less ... ah... Disney-ish. (Just say so if you mind! I'll change it, pronto!)

* * *

_Takes Place Just After Aragorn Leaves Legolas In The Hallway._

* * *

"It lives!", declared a wide-eyed Elrohir upon seeing his elder brother approaching from up the stairs. Aragorn only rolled his eyes in response. 

Elladan and Elrohir were waiting at the foot of the northern staircase, both tapping a foot impatiently and smiling in such a way that it was a direct contradiction to their annoyed tones of earlier and their irate body language of late.

They didn't need to smile, of course. Aragorn knew that his twin brothers, whatever they said, were not in the least bit angered by his lack of punctuality. In fact, it was rare that the twins were angered at all - Elladan being too calm and collected to fall prey to such a vehement emotion and Elrohir being unable to take anything serious enough to be angered by it. To give them credit, however, the twins did put on quite a show when they tried to be angry...

...Just as they were doing right then; giving Aragorn disapproving looks as their elder brother came within a good proximity of them.

"What took you so long?", Elladan asked, folding his arms across his chest, business-like.

"Well, I-"

"Nevermind", Elrohir interrupted, throwing the act aside,"Come on, they're waiting!"

Taking Aragorn's arms, the twins began leading their elder brother across the hard oak floor to the front entry way and were just about to cross the threshold when suddenly - someone plowed between Elladan and Aragorn, brushing past them and shooting out the front door.

"Yeah, excuse you!", Elladan called rather testily after the disappearing figure of a female elf. The girl only turned and cast him an angry flash of her green eyes, but didn't stop in her charge across the west lawn.

"Southern elves", Elladan muttered, narrowing his eyes at her.

Both Aragorn and Elrohir's eyebrows raised in surprise at the sudden unraveling of their brother's composure.

But neither of them said anything to Elladan in regard to this, and so... taking Aragorn's arms once again, the twins towed their elder brother through the entry way, out onto the palatial front steps of the Tournament house building and across the east lawn towards the stables.

"Where are we going?", Aragorn asked just then, looking around.

He'd thought that the Lorien elves (Haldir, Orophin and Rumil) would be waiting for them out in front of the Youth Tournament building. When outside, however, he quickly saw that there was no one else in sight - that is, except for the guards at the gates, of course - however, they appeared to be too deeply engrossed in a rather serious game of jacks to pay any mind to them. Instead, the twins continued towing him over the grass towards the right side of the settlement.

"Behind the stables", Elladan answered his brother's question while releasing Aragorn's arm,"They're leaving."

The expression Aragorn shot his brother clearly conveyed his puzzlement,"What are you talking about? Who's leaving?"

"Me, of course", Elrohir smiled, dropping Aragorn's arm, too, just as they rounded the stable building and appeared before a small gathering of platinum-haired elves.

"Aragorn", Haldir said, standing. Orophin, who had been seated on a log next to his brother, stood up as well.

Aragorn smiled and greeted the brothers, before turning and giving a little wave to the third elf who was in attendance... the youngest one of the bunch: Rumil was standing a little further back towards edge of the forest, busily examining a rock of some sort.

"All right", Aragorn began, business-like, arms akimbo as he faced his brothers and the blondes,"So why are we meeting behind the stables like some shady pipe-weed dealers? And why in Arda would you choose to leave now when we'd been begging you to do it for centuries, Elrohir? Did you put him up to this Haldir?"

"Such demands.", Haldir purred in that smooth drawl of his,"Must be that savage half of the Peredhil's..."

Aragorn couldn't help but crack a smile. Haldir The Flirt, a flicker of his eyes could make a grown-elf blush.

"We've got this new stallion", Orophin began explaining, to answer Aragorn's questions,"Handsome thing, blacker than coal, and faster than a dragon in the air. Probably more powerful than one, too. Oh, you've got to see this horse, Aragorn. The hooves alone are a marvel - they shine almost more than his mane, which is also-"

"Orophin", Haldir said, giving his brother a meaningful look.

"Right. Anyway, Elrohir is desperate to see him", Orophin summed up, considerably less enthusiastic than when he was talking about the stallion. Haldir shook his head at his brother and continued himself.

"The stallion was a gift to us from Galadriel", Haldir said, flashing his palms and then folding his hands together,"Orc stuff. We've got him tethered at and under the protection of the royal stables in Caras Galadrim. Can't trust a horse like that anywhere else. We are aware that no one is to leave the settlement unless it's an emergency but... If he's going to see the horse, we'd have to take Elrohir with us into to the city... "

"You can't just go and bring it back here?", Aragorn asked, reasonably.

"Around this many of our brethren's enemies?", Haldir gave a small smile," Peaceful tournament or no, I'd never bring such a creature among those southern beasts."

"We'd never be able to lift our eyes off of him," Orophin added,"A second is all they would need to swipe him. Centuries of thievery in their blood, they could disappear a mûmak up their sticky sleeves."

"In fact, we plan to transport the horse to Rivendell until we've received word that these Southern elves have passed Sutherland", Rumil added, turning over a black stone in his hand, as he approached the group.

"I see", Aragorn nodded . He sighed,"Let me see if I've got this - we're going to risk Glorfindel's wrath to spring Elrohir out of the tournament settlement and into Caras Galadrim, hours away, just so he can see a horse?"

"A shining, black stallion, actually, a very amazing-", Orophin began again.

"Yeah, yeah." Aragorn said, not really caring,"But really... Elrohir, a horse?"

"Well...", Elrohir's eyes shifted,"And..."

"And?", Aragorn prompted.

"And I must go, Aragorn.."

"What?"

Elrohir sighed, licked his lips and began the speech he'd been working over in his mind for the past fifteen minutes,"Aragorn, I know you promised Father you would look after Elladan and I to make sure that we stayed right and did everything we were supposed to here, but... this tournament means nothing to me. Nothing at all. You must know that. I honestly don't give a flying monkey's uncle who wins what and how. I mean, if we weren't legally binded to come, I wouldn't be here in a million years... it's just too boring! I'd much rather be out of here - in the forest and hunting... with them," the mournful twin said, gesturing towards the Lorien elves, who smiled at him softly. Elrohir turned his eyes up at Aragorn, pleadingly,"Please, let me go. I won't get into any trouble while I'm there, I swear it!"

Aragorn looked at his younger brother a little suspiciously. A well-behaved Elrohir was a silly enough concept to invoke a case of the giggles in even the most deplorably decorous of elves.

"Come on, Aragorn. You know you've ditched your share of mandatories in the past, too... and for less worthy reasons", Haldir said, smirking as he recalled those incidents. Elladan and Orophin smiled as they remembered, too.

Aragorn nodded silently, considering this. Elladan's presence could be used to substitute Elrohir when necessary. Such was the advantage of twins.

"Brother, please.", Elrohir begged, tilting his head to the side. His tone was serious now,"You've got to let me go, Aragorn. You know I'm going to be absolutely impossible if you don't."

"True enough", Aragorn muttered,"All right. Fine. I won't stop you if you really want to go."

"Praise Manwe!", Elrohir threw grinned first at the skies and then at his elder brother,"Thank you. I will be good, you won't regret this-"

"I hope not", Aragorn said,"But now, how are we going to get you out of here? And when? Can't this wait until after the feast?"

"Well", Elladan said,"Actually, right now might be a good time to do it because of the feast. Everyone's inside. So, we've less chance of getting caught."

Aragorn heaved a mournful sigh, knowing his brother was right,"Of course."

Elladan put an understanding hand on his elder brother's shoulder,"I know. I'm starved, too. I keep thinking of those sweet potatoes - straight from Hobbiton, best in the land. Mmm..."

Although Aragorn nodded along with his brother (because he really was hungry, too), the food was not the reason why Aragorn regretted not being able to attend the feast sooner. Sweet potatoes, thick slices of ham, and the moist, delicious bread that awaited him in heaping piles on silver platters just minutes away was tempting, of course. But mostly, Aragorn only wanted to talk more with the beautiful Prince of Mirkwood. He wanted to watch those eyes sparkling again, up close like before, and maybe ... just a little closer this time?

"Come now!", Elladan said, slapping and rubbing his hands together briskly."Anyone have a plan, then? The faster we do this, the faster Aragorn and I may eat."

Without hesitance, Aragorn first suggested they launch Elrohir over the wall via a good, firm kick in the behind and as much as the bunch admired this easeful idea - they soon began to suspect that Elrohir may not be so keen on agreement. And so, taking up space around a decaying log, they all set to thinking. After many plans were thought up, laid out before the critical eyes of the others and then swiftly scraped, there remained only one clear option.

"Look, we'll wrap him in a burlap sack, tell the the guards he's something inane and uninteresting...", Haldir began, decidedly.

"- Oh, they'll sense that -", Elladan, of course.

"- And they'll let us pass, right beneath their noses", Haldir finished.

Everyone nodded glumly in agreement. None of them liked having to conduct an escape in such a routine fashion - it was just so boring. But as of yet, this age-old tactic seemed to be the only way to go about the business of smuggling. Besides, it was going to rain soon and none of them wanted to sit around, soaking wet, inhaling the pungent horse-stench of the stables all night, just to think up a more creative plan.

"And I know just where to get the sack," Elrohir said at once.

Aragorn tried to hurry, tried desperately to jog along behind the settlement buildings to get this entire fiasco over with so that he may attend the dinner all the sooner. But his mates seemed to lag behind and as much as his logical side told his irrational side the otherwise, he could only assume that they knew what he was up to and were all bent solely on decimating all chances of his seeing Legolas later on that night and thusly, ruining his life altogether. 'Such maturity', Aragorn scolded himself.

"Quickly, now!", Aragorn whispered grumpily at his brothers and friends from up ahead.

"Oh, I hope we're not interrupting a pressing tryst, Aragorn", Haldir teased, doing nothing to alter his pace,"I know how you adore your meetings with certain shafts..."

Elladan, completely missing the innuendo, joined in,"Honestly, Aragorn, the blade practices aren't to be held until the day after tomorrow, anyway. But if you're so impatient, we may practice our swordsmanship after we feast this evening."

Haldir only chuckled, while Aragorn turned to glare before plowing onwards determinedly.

And soon enough, they reached the building that Elrohir gestured too and after peering in through a window to make sure the coast was clear, crept in through the front door. It seemed to be a kitchen storage, as large sacks of mysterious contents slumped against the walls and ridiculously large canisters of jam were sorted along the many shelves. A swift and thorough plucking through of the storage materials produced an empty burlap sack just big enough to hold Elrohir.

Critically, Rumil held the sack up against Elrohir's chest and examined the size,"Yes, I believe it will definitely do."

It was then the youths simultaneously heard the crunchy sound of twigs being crushed beneath elven boots.

"Hide!"

A small scrambling and rock-star-esque elf hair flying in every direction and seconds before the storage door swung open, all but Elrohir had suitable hiding places. The poor elf dared not breathe, his back pressed uncomfortably flat against the wall, his chest pulled up and his belly sucked in as he stood stone-still behind the door. The elf cook who argued with Glorfindel earlier in the day about the chickens stomped in with as little natural grace as any elf could muster. Still muttering of his missing birds, he failed to hear as Elrohir slipped expertly out the storage door.

Haldir, who was second nearest the door, planted squarely beside a shelf, followed next. Always a blur of silver, he left as a Cheshire cat - only his teasing grin remaining as the rest of him disappeared. Rumil and Orophin were stuck, Aragorn noticed, shooting a glance to Elladan who was crouching behind a sack along the opposing wall. So with a brazen sort of courage, Aragorn made a quick decision, gestured to Elladan and then stood up from his hiding spot in plain view. There was a pause as the kitchen chef registered the sudden appearance of a dark elf standing dangerously close to the shelves of jelly.

"AH-HAHH! Marauder!", The cook accused at the top of his everlasting lungs."You'll not get my JAM, my sweet jars of berrifulness!"

While the cooks eyes remained on Aragorn and he raged ear-splittingly about jam, Rumil took the opportunity to scramble out the door half on his knees. Sighing and noting the gesture, Elladan stood next, capturing the cooks attention to his corner of the room as Orophin escaped on the blind-side as well.

"Conspirators! Glorfindel's doing, I have not worked with such incompetence!", the chef yelled, pumping his fists angrily in the air. Haldir peeked in a few seconds later and Aragorn discreetly shooed him away. They would take the fall while Elrohir made his escape with the mischievous trio. Haldir shook his head ever amused at the crazy elfs unyielding goodness and disapparated once more.

Eight flying pots, a sedated cook and one angry Glorfindel later, Aragorn found himself sighing disheartedly over a giant, gurgling pot of dirty dish water.

"And I realize you helped all day, both of you, but I cannot have my kitchen staff compromised and I can do no favors in regards to punishments", Glorfindel was lecturing,"It simply isn't at all fair to the other contenders, to give you leave to breaking and entering and I won't even get started on what you've done to the cook - "

But not only did Glorfindel get started on the cook, Aragorn was quite certain he probably would never finish and so tuned him out. Scrubbing along beside Elladan, he forlornly tried to come to terms with the fact that he would not see his Greenleaf this night.

_-------------------------- Meanwhile, At the Front Gates ---------------------------_

"Hold it - What's in there?", the guard asked, pointing at the burlap. .

"Oh that?", Orophin said nervously, pointing at it as well. He gulped nervously,"Nothing."

The guard narrowed his eyes at him."Really? Well, it looks to me like a rather heavy load of nothing..."

Sensing the kind of suspicion that could lead to the discovery of Elrohir, who was packed neatly inside the burlap and thrown carelessly over the back of a horse, Rumil - not being a good liar, himself - shot Haldir: Master of Deception a look that said quite clearly, "DO something!". Haldir, that clever elf, caught on in an instant and strode confidently forward, his smirk deepening. Rumil rolled his eyes.

"What he means is 'nothing' of importance, of course", Haldir said, taking up a position beside the horse and in front of the guard. "It's actually chicken feed."

"Chicken feed?", the guard echoed, cocking an eyebrow. Rumil, looking pained, shut his eyes and lifted a hand to massage the area between his eyes.

"Yeah," Haldir smiled charmingly,"Imported straight from Rivendell."

To sort of back up his claim, Haldir lifted a hand and set it on the burlap sack while grinning proudly.

Now, by some strange coincidence, the palm of Haldir's hand landed on the part of the sack that lay directly over Elrohir's bottom. And when this became evident to Haldir - because he could feel the um.. anatomy through the material - the mischievous and smirking elf patted the spot profusely and even rubbed it a little. On the other side of the horse, the upside-down Elrohir glared at the burlap in front of his face.

Meanwhile, the guard still looked skeptical,"Oh really?"

Haldir nodded, a winning smile sparkling on his face,"Yes, actually. We had a friend of ours bring it over with him because it was on his way. Didn't have time to make the trip ourselves, you see."

Rumil was pleasantly surprised now. Privately, he resolved to never again doubt his brother's powers of deception.

The guard, only minimally paranoid by nature and wanting to get to the bottom of facts as quickly as possible so that he could return to his neglected jacks, peered at Haldir intensely for a few moments - inside him the war between jacks and honor raged on - but in the end, the guard blinked and shrugged. "All right", he said, giving in,"Seems like an awful lot of chicken feed, though.."

"Well, of course", Haldir said, looking as though the guard had said something silly,"Do you know how much it costs to have someone haul this thing through forests, and over mountains and rivers? I'm not going to pay that price six times a year, I tell you."

The guard smiled in understanding now,"It does get uncommonly expensive, this time of year.", he said, while backing up and waving them through,"Go on ahead, then."

And the three brothers and their giant sack of chicken feed passed freely through the gates, smiling innocently and waving happily at the guards, who waved happily right back.

"I thought for sure he was going to ask to see inside the bag!" Rumil said to Haldir, once they were out of earshot of the guards. Privately, Rumil had already decided to never again doubt his brother's monolithic powers of deception.

Haldir chuckled lightly in response to Rumil, while secretly thanking Elberth for the luck.

"I almost DIED under that pressure!", burst Orophin, eyes-wide. "Did you see the way he was just peering at me? Like he could see right through my head- !"

"Oh, we can all see right through your head", Rumil pretended to squint into his brother's ears.

But the banter was interrupted with a muffled cry of indignance from Elrohir,"HEY! Are we clear? Let me out now! But - not you, Haldir!"

* * *

**Part Two: The Next Day**

* * *

Morning sunlight began searing through Aragorn's window at about six o'clock, flashing it's blinding interruption on the youth's dry, creaky floorboards. Sleep - an activity anticipated and dearly missed, especially during the wee hours of the dawn - was chased away by the yellow glow that began seeping in past the curtains and creeping along past the lines in the floor and up onto the bed. By the time the luminous light tickled Aragorn's eyelashes, the elven youth was already awake and lying sprawled, without moving, on his back and staring up at his ceiling... - Yeah. Again. 

Aragorn was wondering - from his strategically-positioned, horizontal expression of rumination upon the bed - what the odds would be that he would get dressed, run out of his room at just exactly the right moment and crash serendipitously into Legolas. He closed his eyes to get a few more dim moments to fantasize on the encounter.

As though reading his mind, the grey clouds hovering in the sky - remnants of last night's rain - moved to block the prying rays of sunlight that had entered his room and succeeded in shrouding Aragorn's chamber in a private obscurity.

'Mmm, sweet sleep.' Aragorn whispered to himself, nearly drifting off again. But in an unexpected flurry of movement, he lifted himself swiftly from his blankets and decided to greet the day now, before he could catch himself cuddling his own pillows, wrapped too comfortably in thoughts of the Greenleaf.

There were ever more chores to be done - more of his penance from the night before. But surely, he would meet the Prince at some point during his activities. And the sooner he left his room, the sooner this chance meeting would occur, he concluded, smiling.

Much as he tried, though, through-out the busy day to come across the elusive Prince of Mirkwood, his eyes remained unsatisfied by the usual Loth'lorien prettiness, which now seemed so mediocre in comparison. Everytime a blonde flash of hair danced across his peripheral vision, it only came to belong to some unknown elf, of whom he had no interest in. In a shadowy disappointment, he would return to his work. And so sullenly, he plodded across the day, completing each menial task after another, helping to setup the last few bits of preparations before practices began the next day.

At long last, his anticipated meeting came in quite the most unexpected way...

"Aragorn?", that dear, sweet sound echoed in the manure-gritty barn.

Aragorn paused, gulped and turned to see Legolas standing in the small pool of sunlight a window allowed through the roof. Glowing, slender beauty smiling sweetly at him.

"Legolas", he managed to smile without looking like the deranged fool he felt like,"Hello."

Legolas smiled back briefly and looked towards the bucket Aragorn was holding,"Am I interrupting? I can go - "

"No, no, it's fine", Aragorn assured him, as he set the bucket down and dusted his hands off. They looked grimey and lined in sludge. He wiped them off as best as he could with a rag pulled from his back pocket.

Legolas seated himself on a bale of hay and gave a friendly smile."Glorfindel told me you would be in here. I didn't see you at the feast last night and wondered what happened..."

"Ah, well - "

Legolas continued, his eyes laughing,"He said you broke into the pantry and stole a chicken?"

Aragorn laughed, while Legolas grinned and continued,"Such a curious crime, I wondered - did you have something against this particular chicken or do you just prefer to hunting savagely for your dinner in storages?"

"Nothing of the sort... We were in need of a dress for my brother, Elrohir", Aragorn explained as he sat beside Legolas,"He has a certain fondness for burlap sacks..."

"Wearing burlap sacks?", Legolas inquired.

"Given the occasion..."

"What occasion, might I ask?"

"Sneaking out of the compound."

It was Legolas's turn to chuckle,"So you missed the feast to dress your brother in burlap, and send him out into the forest with a chicken?"

"Very nearly", Aragorn smiled,"The chicken came along of its own accord, you see."

The two youths shared another bout of laughter, which died away into silence as they became aware of the other's closeness. They looked at each other for a while, trading glances and feigning interest in strands of hay sticking out beside their knees.

Finally, it was Legolas who broke the silence, being unable to blush any brighter than he already was. "Maybe I can help you."

"Help me?", Aragorn could not think what Legolas was talking about. In truth, between you and I, he could not think at all, actually.

"Glorfindel said you were assigned consequential chores for last nights occurrence...", Legolas said, moving away and taking up the bucket Aragorn set down."I don't think I have any experience with this sort of thing, but I would not mind learning, if you would not mind teaching."

It would be an understatement to tell you all that Aragorn was more than happy to teach anything Legolas wanted to learn. And it just so happened that the care of horse's was one of Aragorn's most treasured subjects, being of equestrial relation himself - in the sense that he liked oats very much.

"It would be a pleasure."

By sunset, the two had talked themselves dry on every subject under Anor - but continued along, stretching every possible 'lesson' on horse care. Aragorn told Legolas of his family and vice versa through-out the afternoon, each chuckling as the other told his own tale of cruel and unusual exasperation caused by relatives.

Legolas learned of Aragorn's twin brothers, who were so similiar and yet different in their own little ways. And Aragorn learned of the King and Queen of Mirkwood and their tendency to relocate trees standing too near the Prince's windows, for measurements of safety.

"So that you won't climb out and escape?", Aragorn asked, incredulous, as they brushed down the horses.

"So the branches won't slither in and sadistically poke me to death, I should assume," Legolas replied, as he combed gently down a colt's mane. He paused as a sudden idea came to his mind. With a small hesitation, he said,"Aragorn?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think, perhaps, I could ride one of these horses?"

Aragorn smiled a slow smile that Legolas had already begun to admire.

"I think we can arrange that."

Together, the two led a horse from the barn and into the fields to begin Legolas's riding lessons. For the Prince had never before had the privilege of riding a full-grown stallion by himself - though he learned quickly enough.

And there was laughter once more, that sparkling laughter from Legolas that echoed through the forest, fluttering the wings of birds, the leaves of the trees and even the heart of a quiet on-looker.

Soft, shimmery sapphire eyes flashed enviously from the rooftop of a barn, very near to the fields. Tirinien watched, from his perch, the on-goings of the compound, taking special interest in the Prince of Mirkwood. His gaze, though it wandered, never strayed too far from the Greenleaf.

For part of the afternoon, he'd been looking on as Legolas and the dark son of Lord Elrond flirted sickeningly through-out the stables and the fields.

Mostly, though, he'd thought endlessly about the exchange he'd had with Cudagor the night before - impatient with himself as he realized and contemplated harshly his own horrifying error.

Perhaps, if he'd remained quiet, he would not have sparked such a rage in the southern elf - a rage, he knew, which caused Cudagor's limited mind and boundless ego to pool such determination in pursuing the Prince. And now, if his guesses were correct, as they mostly were, he would now have the moral obligation of keeping an eye out for the Prince's safety. Not an easy endeavor - to watch the object of your affection be courted by another, while simultaneously half-shielding him from a salivating beast.

But Tirinien was not one to show much emotion, anyway - certainly not the sort of emotion he found himself falling victim to as of late. He could in no way have made the Prince so happy as he seemed then, riding a brawny steed, smiling more glorious than the sunshine.

'That laughter would never have been caused by one such as I, Tirinien reasoned internally, and if I cannot bring forth such radiance from him myself, then it would be better to leave him to one who can.'

But more than anything, as his current position proved, he wished no harm to come to the Prince of Mirkwood. Most especially if that harm was in any way caused by himself.

And so the silent elf watched, dutifully and resolutely, into the late evening from aloft until finally, the two elves parted ways beneath the light of a ripe moon. Tirinien looked towards the heavens quickly, in a quiet thanks that he did not have to bear witness of a kiss.

Swiftly, hopping along the rooftops, stealthily as any Galadrim assassin, he followed Legolas to make sure that he got to his room safely. He watched, amusement in his eyes, when he saw for a moment Legolas's confusion as people the Prince passed whipped their heads around after him. Such innocence.

Finally Legolas made it safely into his building, and out of sight. His work for the evening had finished.

Tirinien stood up, took one last scan around and nimbly slid off the side of the roof he was on, held the edge of the gutter for a split second and landed squarely onto his feet at ground-level. And just as he made to round the corner, a pair of angry steel-grey eyes appeared before him and another elf dropped down behind him, securing his arms across his back.

Two seconds.

"Enjoy the show?"

* * *

_It's been years, but I'm TRYING to finish.. :( Anyone there?_

* * *


End file.
